


Are you a carbon sample?

by lirians



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Post-Break Up, Reconciliation, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:15:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21715192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lirians/pseuds/lirians
Summary: About to take her first step, she sees in her peripheral vision when someone joins their group and stops right next to her. She turns her head reflexively, looking at the tall young man entranced by his phone, and it’s with growing astonishment that she realizes that he looks just like—No, scratch that. That strong jaw, that ridiculous and chaotic head of hair, the glasses perched on top of his long nose: it is him.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter
Comments: 17
Kudos: 90





	Are you a carbon sample?

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo, here is the fic I've been working on for the last few weeks. I don't know if I like it, I might change it in the future, but I NEED to post it so I stop obsessing over it. I apologize in advance for any typos etc. 
> 
> In other news: I've changed the ending. Already.
> 
> This was inspired by a Brazilian music video called "Partilhar" (sung by Anavitoria and Rubel). Go see it if you want to know what brought this to life. This has a happy ending that you won't find there, but I gave up on the poetry in order to let James and Lily stay together.

There is a white van nearing the bus stop at the slowest pace its capable of without stopping entirely. Because of its lethargy, a bunch of people gather together on the sidewalk, unsure whether to cross the street or to stay put until the vehicle passes by. The afternoon is beautiful, and the sunlights that filter through the clouds are enough to shed a healthy glow to the area, which is one of many possible explanations for the lacking of grumbling amongst the Londoners.

A few steps behind of the group, waiting to cross the avenue towards Holland Park, Lily Evans breathes out deeply, her shoulders relaxing for being outdoors after spending her entire morning in a stuffy lab. She adjusts the headphones on her ears, Hozier’s _Almost_ rocking through the speakers. It’s almost two, now, and she’s officially done for the day, which is why she’s on her way to her usual walk before going home. She sends an attentive look over her shoulder to the street. The van has finally gone on its way, leaving the road safe to cross.

About to take her first step, she sees in her peripheral vision when someone joins their group and stops right next to her. She turns her head reflexively, looking at the tall young man entranced by his phone, and it’s with growing astonishment that she realizes that he looks just like—

No, scratch that. That strong jaw, that ridiculous and chaotic head of hair, the glasses perched on top of his long nose: it _is_ him.

Lily stares.

He looks good, which she already knew because obviously she has access to the internet and to telly, but still it’s different to see it right there, close enough to touch. His hair is shorter, but wider than it ever was, as if it’s making up for the loss of length by being extra rebellious. His shoulders look strong in the black jumper that he’s wearing, one that has a Chemistry pun on it ( _I would make a science pun, but all the good ones Argon)._ Some things are the same, though: there are the same thin, restless hands, one of each is now messing with his phone whilst the other taps a rhythm into his thigh; there is the same dimple on his left cheek when he smirks down at something. 

Lily feels her belly performing a lurch that’s both amazed and painful. She can’t quite believe she is standing on the same sidewalk as James bloody Potter. He wasn’t her first kiss, nor her first boyfriend, but he is the one boy in her teenage years that she still thinks about, wondering what would’ve happened if they had insisted on their eager, stumbling feelings towards each other.

Something screams at her to reach out, but she doesn’t know if she should. Hozier sings in her ears _be still my foolish heart, don’t ruin this on me._ She thinks it might be a sign of some kind.

He hasn’t noticed her, looking instead at the empty street. The other pedestrians have already gone well on their way; whatever he’s seeing on his phone held him off for a bit. He absentmindedly pockets the device. Instead of crossing at once, he stares ahead, seemingly lost in thought.

After a few seconds, he moves his head to the left, checking that there are no cars in that direction. For some reason, his eyes don’t stop by the road, turning further to the left and finding her standing there, possibly looking like spooked deer. The expression on him is vacant when he sees her, but then his entire face shifts in surprise. His right hand suddenly stops its tapping altogether.

There’s no way around it now.

Lily doesn’t know if she would want one, anyway.

“James," Lily calls, taking out her headphones. Her heart is pulsing everywhere in her body. “Hi.”

“Lily," he breathes. “Hey…”

He takes a step away from the street and closer to her, for a second looking like he’s going in for a hug. Then he shakes his head, just a small fraction of a movement, and aborts the initiative, raising his left arm up to his hair instead.

“I can’t believe it’s you," he says.

He opens his mouth to say something else, shoulders uprising with his sudden intake of breath, but nothing comes out.

She notes how he seems to have forgotten to take his hand out of his hair.

“ _I_ can’t believe it," Lily counters, once it’s clear he isn’t going to say anything else. She shoves her headphones into her purse.

He’s staring. It’s just her luck that she has just left the lab and is wearing ordinary jeans and a blouse, her hair tied up in a hurried ponytail. He, on the other hand, looks lovely. His eyes are clear today, filtering in the light of mid-afternoon.

She still recalls how brown they get when it rains.

“How are you?” James asks, looking completely gobsmacked by her presence. The fingers that were holding his hair finally leave it to its own luck.

“I’m doing alright," she says, trying to ignore the awkwardness. “What about you?”

“I’m good," he says, but his shoulders raise in a dismissal of the matter. “You know.”

Lily truly doesn’t.

“I love your jumper," she says, gesturing awkwardly towards him.

James seems confused for a moment, looking down at his chest. Then his mouth turns up at the corners. 

“Yeah, I thought you might," he starts. “I mean, back when we—”

He doesn’t finish.

 _Oh_. “Oh," Lily says brightly. 

“Yeah," he murmurs, almost sadly, his eyes intense on her.

They are silent for a few beats of staring.

Lily breaks away first, looking down to try to hide the feelings that must be written all over her face. He’s always been a good reader of her.

“What you’re doing here?” she asks, once she’s got the courage to, raising her eyes.

“Going for a walk," he answers, gesturing towards the general direction of Holland Park. “The weather is nice for a change.”

“No, I didn’t mean—I meant in London," she corrects. “I thought you were still in Manchester?”

“I came back early because mum got sick.”

“Euphemia?" Lily asks, widening her eyes at him. “How is she?”

“She’s fine now," he guarantees. “Getting better by the day.”

“I didn’t know, I would’ve… I’ve thought of visiting her, but it always seemed so...”

“Yeah," James says, his eyes moving away. “You should’ve gone, I’m sure she would like to see you.”

“We talked a few months ago," Lily tells him. He looks back at her, seeming taken aback. “We still exchange birthday cards.”

“I didn’t know that," James answers, gazing at her as if he’s searching for something.

“I think she might’ve forgotten to mention it."

“Maybe she did," he says, but the way he tilts his head to the side and avoids her eyes suggests that he doesn’t really believe it.

They pause. A bunch of kids pass by them on the sidewalk, moving around their stillness. Lily follows them with her eyes, noticing how they pass a chocolate bar amongst themselves. When she turns back to her companion, she’s made a decision.

“James," she starts, “would you like to walk with me?”

His brows move up on his forehead. There’s suddenly that shadow of a smirk that she remembers, the one that tilts up one side of his lips. “Where to?”

“I’m not sure. I mean, you don’t have to. Clearly. I just thought we could—”

“Of course," he interrupts firmly, those same eyes communicating things that she doesn’t understand entirely. “Of course we can.”

She nods, relieved.

They cross the street together.

* * *

The two of them walk slowly towards the park, a foot between their bodies. The walk will take longer that way, Lily thinks. The path isn’t too full and the few people there are completely mindless of their presence, which is a small miracle, considering her current association.

“What you said about your mother," Lily breaks the silence once they are already encapsulated by trees on each side of the way, “is she truly fine?”

“She’s better," James says, his voice steady. “She had a complication on her heart a few weeks ago. It was rough but she’s home now.”

“God," she exhales. “I can’t imagine it, Euphemia’s so strong. I’m sorry your family had to go through it.”

“She’s fine now, that’s what matters."

“You’re staying here until she recovers?" Lily asks, raising her eyes to his face.

“No," he says and there’s something at the corner of his lips, a twitch that reminds her of the times his schemes were on the verge of being discovered back in school. “I was already coming here. I arrived last week instead of next month because of mum, but it was already in my plans to come home, since my contract was done with this May.”

“Oh. So it’s permanent?”

“It is," he says it more by the way his eyes stay unwavering on her than with his words. “We declined the renovation. I’ve always had in mind that I would come back. It was my opportunity and Mourinho asked for me. I’m signing with Tottenham.”

“Oh, that’s—that’s brilliant," she says truthfully. “Your parents must be so happy.”

“They’re planning a party," James replies.

“Of course. I bet they’re spoiling you to bits.”

“In my defence, I told them to stop.”

“Well, I don’t believe that for a second.”

“I didn’t think you would," he says and his voice is soft, fond. Lily tries not to focus on that. “What about you? How’s your family? Your mother, your sister…”

“Everyone’s fine," Lily guarantees. “Mum’s great. She moved to Dublin about two years ago… She’ll be visiting soon because Petunia’s getting married.”

“Petunia’s engaged?” James raises his brows. “I’m sure the fiancée's an interesting lad.”

“That’s certainly a way to put it.”

“How would _you_ put it?”

“Vernon’s a bland, prejudiced, ignorant man," Lily asserts immediately. “He also thinks that being a male guarantees that Petunia will act as his servant for her entire life." 

“Your sister settled for a sexist piece of shit?"

"Yes, she did. No surprises there, but I still feel like it's my job to make him uncomfortable whenever I meet them.”

James chuckles to that, which makes his eyes crinkle and his dimples make another appearance.

(How is he even lovelier than what she remembered?)

“I had forgotten how passionate you are when you dislike someone," he says, his voice still carrying along his amusement.

“He deserves it!" Lily says, evaluating James for a second, actively trying not to let her eyes linger on the shape of his mouth. “I wouldn’t expect _you_ to forget that.”

“I reckon other stuff about you took precedence over the lectures you used to give me," he says easily.

“He gets it _way_ worse than you ever did," she says, sidestepping the implications behind his sentence, but flustered all the same because of them.

“Is it out of line if I say that, if anyone has a chance to be happy with someone like that, it’s probably your sister?" he sends her a sidelong glance.

“No, not really," Lily sighs. “To be entirely honest, I’ve thought the same thing myself.”

“Excellent," James nods. “Now imagine what offspring they’ll bring into the world.”

Lily takes her hands to her eyes, groaning. “Let’s not talk about that _ever_.”

“At least they’ll have you as an aunt."

“Petunia will probably not let me be near them all that much.”

James’s face sobers up, his brows creasing, all humour gone. “It's her loss.”

Lily shrugs, not wanting to extend the subject. She feels the weight of his eyes over her even when she gazes away at the green around them, at the trees and the pond and the bridges where children are pointing at what must be fish.

She feels calmer, but it’s still deeply unsettling to not know how to say the things that she wants him to know about her – about them, really, about how much she’s missed him and how she has dreams about him still, even after all those years.

So much was left unsaid between them. Maybe it’s the lack of closure what kept his presence in the back of her mind, but maybe it’s something else – something inexplicable, deeply felt, that has made her accompany his life even when they were nothing to each other anymore.

She’s trying to come up with another subject to move forward the conversation when she notices that one of the children, a brown-skinned boy holding a football, is staring at them with the widest eyes. It takes Lily a good ten seconds to understand why.

“I think you’ve been recognised."

“What? Ah. I see it.”

James proceeds to wave at his audience. It makes the child puff out his cheeks in what seems like embarrassment, instantaneously poking at his friends so they can see James as well.

“You don’t happen to have a pen on your purse, do you?” James asks, turning to her.

“I’m a _student_ ," she informs him, opening her purse to get the needed pen. “Here.”

“Give me a second?”

“Of course," she says, waving him on.

He walks over to the bridge where the children are playing. Lily watches how he nears them, grinning widely, and how he kneels by the little boy to ask to sign his ball. He does so in a second and they talk for some time, James seemingly asking something about his football skills, if the way they both are gesturing as goalkeepers is anything to go by.

When they are done, James jogs over to where she is.

“That was adorable," Lily acknowledges before he can say anything, taking back the offered pen and putting it in her bag.

“It happens sometimes," he messes with his hair, apparently out of sorts with the attention. Lily thinks that’s adorable too. “Some of them know me from Premier League last year, although I'm not that big of a deal.”

“Not _that big of a deal_?” Lily repeats, incredulous, starting again on their path. “James, everyone in Britain knows you. You were in the national team last year, what are you even talking about?”

“I just mean—I’m still carving a place for myself. I'm not a big deal _yet_. I'll be one soon, but just not yet.”

“Mourinho _specifically_ asked for you”, she says, using the information that she has been given not ten minutes ago as if it’s something she always knew. “You’ve got your own space already.”

“Aren’t you afraid that all those compliments might go straight to my fat head?” he grins, and it’s an echo of her own words, another allusion to a time when he wasn’t her favourite person.

Instead of those sour memories, it’s the good ones that his grin brings back – the purple lighting of a party at someone’s tiny flat, the salty smell of an afternoon spent at the beach, the weight of his face on her shoulder when she was trying to read. It’s overwhelming to be around him after that much time of her feelings being muted by his absence.

Presently, she knows his smile is a reassurance that their fights in the past don't sting him anymore, so she’s teasing when she responds. “I don’t think that’s a problem. You’re all modest now, it seems. Loads of great numbers in your favour, one of the _most promising_ English players in the words of many journalists, and I have to _reassure_ you that you’re good? The old James Potter would be ashamed.”

“You accompany my career, then?” he asks, raising his eyebrows and smirking at her.

“Of course I do," Lily responds immediately. “How would I get into places for free? I need to know that stuff, so when I drop your name it’s believable.”

“You would never do that." There’s that fondness again in his eyes.

“I might’ve changed.”

“You don’t seem all that different," he shakes his head.

The movement dislodges his glasses, making them slide down his nose. She’s reminded of how she used to adjust them for him, back when they were together, whenever he forgot to do so himself. Then it got to a point that he _wouldn’t_ intervene, no matter how crooked his glasses were, just so she could reach out to settle them on the right place. He seems to remember it as well, if the way he suddenly moves his eyes away is anything to go by. He pushes his glasses up, his forehead creasing. It’s a sudden remembrance that they’re not the same anymore, regardless of how much they still enjoy talking to each other.

“I think I’m a bit different," she says as if nothing has passed between them. “Not like _that_ , but. Different.”

“Well," James says slowly, his hands once again finding his hair. His jaw seems rigid and he doesn’t look at her. “I guess I wouldn’t know.”

Lily nips at her lower lip. “Yeah.”

He gazes at her. “How are your studies going?"

“They’re really good," Lily tells him, relieved by the change in topic. “I’m studying chemical engineering and biotechnology. I’ve been working part time... There aren’t any other girls there in my field of work. We’re thinking of a project to change that.”

“And I assume by _we_ you really mean _you_ ," he gives her his twisted grin.

She narrows her eyes at him, but doesn’t respond.

“Not _that_ different, then," he says, clearly pleased with himself.

“Shut up.”

“Can’t do. Are you happy?” he inquires. His expression doesn't give on much, but his eyes are searching.

“Tricky question," she says, turning her eyes away and raising her head to the sky to organise her thoughts. “I guess—well, I’m not sure. I have happy moments, but I’m not—I don’t even know if it’s _possible_ to be happy all the time, if that’s what you meant. What’s happy?”

“You’re getting philosophical," he notes, amused.

“But it’s not that I’m unhappy, either," she continues, regardless of his words. “Work is great, I love it. I have amazing friends, I’m living with Mary and Marlene, I have many privileges that I’m aware of and am thankful for. Mum’s better, Petunia is Petunia. That’s—well, it’s mostly good, isn’t it?”

“It sure sounds like it," he says, observing her closely.

“What about you? Are you happy?”

“Currently?”

“Sure.”

“I’m radiant," he answers, all seriousness, in a flat tone that makes a burst of laughter leave her.

“Yeah, that's evident."

“I mean it."

"I'm glad, then."

"...I noticed you didn’t mention anyone.”

“What?" she frowns.

He looks at her face, then away. “Just now, when you were talking about your life. Are you seeing anyone?”

“Am I—" she starts reflexively, not really processing the question until she does. She sends him a look to gauge his expression. He’s looking straight ahead, only his profile visible, but his fingers have found his hair once again. “No, I’m not.”

James takes a few seconds to munch over that answer, his hand sliding down his neck before going back to his side. “ _Really_?”

“Really," she replies, trying not to jump to any conclusions. “You?”

“Nah.”

“That can't be true. I know for a fact that you were just dating a model. It’s all over the internet.”

“Are you reading gossip on me, Lily Evans?” James asks, amused.

"No!" she flushes, hurrying an explanation. "News on you pop up sometimes. We have friends in common, I suppose."

“Right. Well, I’m not dating anyone. I was before coming back here, but I — we — ended it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry," Lily says softly. She can’t help but be relieved. The petty sentiment makes her feel guilty, so she awkwardly adds, “those are never the greatest.” 

She feels like dying once she realises what she said.

She watches as he extends his hand for a branch that has reached the path they are walking in. He grabs at the leaves with his fingers. Lily stares, because she still remembers how his hands felt against her skin, how the calluses he got when he started to train professionally would make her shiver and abandon whatever it was that she was doing in order to give him the attention that he sought.

“The breakups?” he inquires.

“Yeah.”

“It was fine," he says dismissively. “I’ve had worse.”

Lily’s eyes fly to his face. Her heart clenches. “Have you?”

He nods, but stays silent for a few more seconds. The mood is suddenly much heavier. When he speaks, his voice is low, but firm. “With you.”

Lily stops on her tracks, her eyes stuck on him. She had imagined it a thousand times before, the pain that she had inflicted. She tried not to, because it had been difficult enough to manage her own feelings, but his wrecked, pained look on the day they broke up was ingrained in her brain permanently. It’s even worse when he says it now. “James. I’m sorry."

“You don’t need to say that," he replies. He looks back and he’s oddly calm.

“But I want to," she retorts. Her voice is affected by how much she’s feeling and she hates it. “You wanted to try—”

“I understood it," he cuts gently, his hands reaching as if to calm her. “It _was_ a mess. I was in Manchester and you were living a bloody hurricane here on your own. I couldn’t be here for you. I would’ve kept going anyway and it was – it was good that you stopped me. You needed it.”

“I was _wrong_ ," she insists. “I blamed you for things that weren’t your fault.”

“Of course you did," he shrugs. “Your parents were getting a divorce, you had to give up the university you wanted... Of course some part of that would affect us.”

“It shouldn’t have," she says, breathing in to compose herself. She doesn’t know if his calmness is settling or disheartening. “But I appreciate it. That you got it.”

“I always did," he guarantees, drawing his shoulders in. “Even then. I did feel like shit for a long time, but it helped to know that it was what you needed – space and time.”

“I’m sorry," she repeats, because there’s nothing else that she can say and mean more. “I felt like everything was falling apart and I couldn’t – it felt like we would, too, and I had to anticipate it before it crashed down on me as well.”

“Do you think we would have?” he asks. “Fallen apart.”

“I don’t know," she says honestly. “I don’t know how we would have managed, with you moving away and being always at training and my obligations here to school and to mum. Besides, I was pretty – I don’t know if I would be mature enough to stop projecting my parents failed relationship on us. But maybe.”

“Yeah," he says softly. He keeps looking at her, seemingly deep in thought.

“Not the right answer?” she asks, noticing how he doesn’t elaborate.

“Not the right question," he gives her a shadow of a smile. “That was something that I wondered about, but it's beside the point.”

“What’s the right question?”

He grins. “What do you call an acid with an attitude?”

Lily stares at him like he’s gone completely barmy. “ _What_?”

“A-mean-oh acid," he says, entirely serious.

“ _What?_ ”

“That’s not it, I’m joking.”

“Clearly," she says, narrowing her eyes at him. “And it’s a horrible joke.”

“Beg to differ," he replies, snorting. “But honestly, it’s—a pun. Why do you think I’m wearing a jumper with a Chemistry pun, Lily?”

She furrows her forehead. “You’re not making any sense.”

“I ringed Marlene and asked where you were studying," he explains plainly. “I went there to find you, with this jumper meant to make you laugh, but I chickened out. Then you found me anyway.”

Lily feels breathless. “You wanted to talk to me?”

“I did," he confirms. “But I was a coward and left. For the second time, mind you. I was coming to the park to wallow in my misery when you spoke to me.”

“Why did you go there?” she inquires quietly.

“Because I wanted to ask you if it’s been enough," he says, and the teasing falls away from his face. He puts his hands into his pockets, his mouth tight. “Time and space, I mean.”

“ _James_ —”

“I’ve been loving you now for roughly seven years, with no real interruption," he continues, his voice wavering but not stopping. “And I think I need to move on, if that’s what you want me to do.”

Lily stares. She had forgotten, somehow, with the passing of time, how he's capable of saying the most honest things directly, putting himself at risk of being crushed like it’s absolutely nothing. That’s the bravest thing about him and it’s gotten her completely by surprise once again.

It’s a gift, she knows. That he can feel so much for her after such a long time. They met each other at 13 and Lily watched James grow up from a self-entitled, arrogant adolescent to a confident, humble young man. She was there when he got his first professional contract, and she was there the day that he got his first _big_ contract with Manchester City at 17. She remembers the day he left and the day _she_ left him, because her parents were over, her mum was completely devastated and her sister was not taking any responsibility. She remembers the way his heart broke in front of her eyes, how he had said he loved her anyway. 

Four years went by since their break up and here is this man telling her that he loves her, _still_ , after this much time, as if his love isn’t variable, as if it has always been there inside him.

“I don’t want you to move on," she whispers.

“Good," he nods, a jerky movement, and his eyes are much lighter, his mouth twitching up. “I don’t want to, either. And I know it won't be easy. I know it's been a long time. But if you want I thought we could try. Again." 

“Yeah," she says, softly, and she can't get over the hopeful look in his eyes. "I want that." 

"Great. Good. That's..."

"Good?"

He snorts, lowering his eyes.

Lily is the first to take a step towards him, extending her arms for the hug that he wanted to give her earlier. It's too much the second that he steps into her touch, pressing his chin to the crown of her head. He has changed his cologne, but there's an underlying scent that's intrinsically James Potter. His hands curl around the blouse she's wearing, tightly, and Lily has missed him so bloody much.

"I think we should take it slow," she whispers, even while she buries her nose into the front of his shirt. "There's so much we don't know yet."

"'Kay," he agrees. His voice is muffled because his face is pressed against her hair. She can hear how shaky his breath is. “Whatever you want.”

"Would you like to have coffee with me?" she asks, raising her head to stare at him. 

He gives her a soft smile, caressing her cheek with his thumb and shaking off the reminiscent nervousness. "Are you a carbon sample?”

“This again?" she admonishes, but she can't hide her grin.

“Because I want to date you," he completes.

"You're ridiculous," Lily replies, but she's taking his hand in hers and raising up to land a kiss on the place where his cheek meet his lips.

"You love it," he says. His eyes are glistening. It makes her so (philosophically) happy.

"I do."

* * *

Needless to say, they cross many other streets together.


End file.
